How Grey The World Was

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt 1840 (Petworth House) – 1922 (United Kingdom)



How grey the world was with its memories,
How dark even this gay room where the motes run!
How black these curtains, thick with murder cries,
These chairs, this floor with things slain in the sun!
'Twas here I strangled love, a year ago,
And hid it 'neath these pillows drenched in blood,
As a mad mother her sweet babe of woe,
Too strong to die, too fair, which shrieks aloud.
How black and bare and bitter the world was
Just yesterday! To--day, this room, dear Heaven,
What laughters fill it! what light footsteps pass!
See, the white chairs dance round me pleasure--driven,
And these sad pillows, where I wept, blab out
The news that you are here, in psalm and shout!

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

37 sec read
96

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABCBDEDFGBHBII
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 665
Words 124
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 14

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt was an English poet and writer. more…

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